The Story of Us
by SoireeMusical
Summary: Sarah and Jareth find each other again after Sarah leaves the labyrinth...but something gets in the way of their happily ever after. Will Jareth discover the truth before it kills Sarah?
1. Chapter 1

This is my first fanfic, and I'm _super_ excited to get reviews! So please read and tell me what you think!

***NOTICE: I do not own "Labyrinth" or any of the characters, blah blah blah, not for profit, just for fun.

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Rain, why did it always have to rain?

It patted against the window is carefree drops, without rhythm and without care. She laid her forehead against the glass, savoring the feel of the cool, smooth texture that soothed her headache, one she hadn't noticed until just now. It's funny how you don't realize how bad you really feel until you feel better.

"Wishful thinking again, dearest?" came a frosty voice.

Her husband, Jareth, King of the Goblins, had strutted into the formal dining room of the castle with a royal scribe goblin in tow, carrying so many scrolls of blank parchment that he could barely hold them all. In fact he couldn't, and when he dropped an ink well on the floor and it shattered, sending ink _everywhere_, Jareth had turned and kicked the poor thing right back out through the entrance door before she could even turn around to see what mess had been made. Jareth then let loose a string of words and insults so vile Sarah wasn't sure her ears could stay attached. The frightened goblin scattered away and 3 more slinked nervously into the room as quietly as possible, and began sopping up the spilled ink with the shirts off their backs, not wanting to waste time to find a rag. Jareth then turned, eyed Sarah coldly, then threw up his hands in the air, and made his way to his chair at the dining table.

"Disgusting creatures! Good for nothing but making a mess!" He plopped himself down in his chair with all the suppressed rage he could muster, and continued his rant, shouting after the cleaning goblins as they scurried from the room with their ink-soaked shirts, "No one can ruin my good mood faster by just being alive than you filthy, useless ingrates!" The door slammed apologetically on Jareth's last words, and he then turned to Sarah, who was still standing by the window, nearly afraid to move, and with a dangerously calm smile, gestured her to take a seat in her chair next to his. Sarah rather regretted being the queen right now; if she was merely a visitor, she could make the excuse that sitting next to the King of the Goblins was an honor reserved only for the queen and dignitaries. But she _was_ the queen, so there was no escaping. She made her way across the grand marble floor of the formal dining hall, and gently sat down in her chair, not wanting to be the next excuse for another one of Jareth's fits of rage. But maybe he was just upset with the goblin? Perhaps if she was quiet enough, she wouldn't draw attention to herself and could escape with her body intact.

"Oh, I _am_ sorry, my Queen!" Jareth mocked as he took a sip from the wine glass that a servant goblin had placed on the table, focusing intently on laying his napkin in his lap in a grand, flamboyant fashion, "my previous comment excluded present company." Jareth snapped his fingers, and a servant brought out a salad, which Jareth promptly began eating without another word or glance in Sarah's direction.

Definitely not just angry with the goblin.

Sarah felt sick to her stomach. If Jareth had gotten that upset over some spilled ink, she couldn't even begin to fathom how angry he would be with her news. Though they hadn't spoken in over two months, Sarah and Jareth still kept meeting for formal dinners in the dining hall once a week. They never spoke, that was understood, but Sarah kept her eyes on her dinner, and Jareth on his, and it went peacefully so.

But not tonight. Tonight Sarah had to talk with Jareth, no matter how much it would violate their shaky truce. Sarah put down her fork and swallowed the tomato she was chewing with a loud gulp. Though unintentional and caused by nervousness, Jareth glared at her as though she had just farted at his mother's funeral. No better time than now, thought Sarah, at least he's making eye contact with me.

"Jareth?" Sarah ventured. He did not look up, nor did he acknowledge that she had spoken, and continued chewing.

"Jareth." She said it more definitively. Though he did not speak, he at least looked in her direction. "I need to tell you something."

Jareth put down his fork and knife, patted the corners of his mouth with his napkin, and then rested his elbows on the table, laced his fingers together, and craned his head in her direction. God, he had to be so goddamn showy, she thought. But then again, his stylish mannerisms and flair for life was one of the things that had drawn her to him. She thought it bitterly ironic that it was now his best defense against readable body language.

"Yes, Sarah, what is it?" He said coolly, his beautiful mismatched eyes staring directly into her soul, and Sarah could have sworn the temperature in the room had dropped by about 10 degrees.

"Well, um, Jareth, I, uhhh, oh, dear, I hadn't actually thought I'd get to speak with you…" she could not find words that would pass her lips coherently. She risked a glance at Jareth's face, hoping for some smidgeon of encouragement, but was only met with a cold, emotionless stare that betrayed nothing.

"Sarah, spit it out, I haven't got all night to listen to you stutter." That fired her camp. "Of course you don't have all night," she said in false honey tones, "I'm sure Rasha is pacing even as we speak."

She was sorry the minute the words left her mouth. Jareth's expression had turned from slightly amused at his comment at Sarah's expense to deathly furious. His mismatched eyes burned like Hellfire, and Sarah was truly scared for her life. She shrank back in her chair, which must have been enough to allay his immediate fury, but certainly not enough to make him forget her comment. Before she could blink her eyes, Jareth had yanked her up out of the chair and dragged her across the dining hall where he slammed her up against the wall. She was whimpering, truly scared at what he might do to her. Oh, she was an idiot, a _prime _idiot. Here she was getting somewhere, and then that _mouth_…

Jareth brought his face as close as he could get without touching her. Sarah could feel his hot breath hit her face as he spoke, "Sarah, if you have some talking to do, then you'd better do it before I lose my patience," he whispered. As if, if he'd tried to speak any louder, it would have come out as an uncontrollably scream of wrath. Sarah gulped, and felt tears well up in her eyes. Then, a most peculiar sound began twisting its way up from deep within her. Oh, for the love of all things holy, not that, not _now!_

But it was too late. A giggle escaped her lips. Jareth instantly focused on it like a hunting dog to a movement in the bushes. Then another, and another, and another, and before she could stop herself or think about something sad, Sarah was laughing uncontrollably, holding her sides with the force of it. Jareth just looked at her, still clutching her arms, but with a look of total incredulity. Sarah tried to speak, but found it impossible to laugh, breath, and talk at the same time. So she just gave in and laughed harder. Jareth released his grip on her as she began to slide down the wall. She laughed harder at the continued look of shock on Jareth's face, a mix of curiosity and, (could it be?) worry. Oh, that was even funnier! A whole new stream of laughter peeled from her mouth, and as her laughter finally began to subside, Jareth sat down on the floor next to her where she had crumpled, unable to hold herself up for all her laughter. There was a hint of a smile in his eyes, not on his face, but in his eyes, and it warmed Sarah immensely. Having been without Jareth's laughter or closeness for the past two months had been like winter to a rosebud. She smiled, and asked "What has you so pleased, my King?"

She expected Jareth to immediately close up and resume his tiring façade, but instead he gently touched his leather-clad fingers to her face, and stroked her cheek gently. "I was just remembering how much I love your laugh," he said, and then he cupped her face with his hand, and said, "Indeed, I have missed it so." He brought her face closer to his, and she rested her forehead on his, and reached her hand up to caress his cheek, his incredibly smooth skin. She savored it the way a wanderer in the desert savors the first cool rush of water he's had in days, the feel of his skin was that much of a drug, no, a _need_ for her survival. Little tingles seemed to jump from his skin to her fingertips hungrily, and Jareth let out a soft moan. He, too, had missed his queen's touch.

"What were you laughing about?" He murmured, thoroughly distracted by the touch of her hand, eyes closed, and moving his face to better feel the contact of her palm against his face. She bit her lip; this would be the end of it. But he had asked, and she had to answer. "I was just thinking that all I had to do to get you to touch me was insult you."

She expected him to withdraw immediately, but he did not. He opened his eyes, but did not pull away from her hand. Instead, he removed his hand from her cheek and placed it on top of her hand, pushing it closer against his face. "You used to not have to do much to get me to touch you." He said it with regret, with chagrin, with longing, and stared hard into her eyes. Sarah felt more tears coming, and they would not be replaced with laughter this time. She saw the instant he put up his defense once more, the mask he had worn in her presence for these past two months. It made her want to cry out in sheer desperation. He put her hand in her lap, stood, and straightened his clothes. Then he looked down on her with cold indifference, like passing a run-over dog in the street. She was there, but what could he do about it?

"I believe you had something you wanted to tell me." He said matter-of-factly, and Sarah could not bring herself to look him in the eye. What she was about to say would drive him away from her and into the waiting arms of that whore Rasha for good. But she loved him, how could she not tell him the truth? She said it quickly before she could change her mind, "I'm pregnant."

There was no sound from the Goblin King, as she had expected. Any noise from him would have meant that he cared enough about her to get mad at her. But he did not. She did not see the look of pure anger that overcame his face as his walked away from her, passing their unfinished dinner, pushing the doors open, and with one last look of disgust, muttered "Filthy whore" under his breath before slamming the doors on her and leaving her alone in the dining room, on the floor, crying.

That was the day she began dying.


	2. Chapter 2

OK, thanks to those who have already read the first chapter and gave me invaluable feedback. I know the beginning is rough, but I promise, it WILL be worth it! R&R please kthnxbi!

Also, I don't own "Labyrinth" or any of the characters, you know the rest.

_Two Years Ago…_

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Sarah screeched at the formidable figure of the Goblin King leaning nonchalantly against the frame of her bedroom door. She had woken up during the night and gone to the bathroom. When she came out, she saw a figure standing in her room, and instinctively grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on to chuck at the intruder. Sarah had counted on it being a book or flashlight, something light and not attached to the wall. Imagine her surprise when her lamp went flying across the room, the cord (which was still plugged in) jerking the table and all the things resting on it to the floor. Jareth had eyed the incoming projectile with passing amusement, and ducked with such speed and grace Sarah's eyes couldn't even register his movement, and the lamp crashed to the floor behind him. Sarah had identified him by now, and the fact that the lamp had missed its target (known enemy, not unknown intruder) flooded her with a mix of relief, anger, and (after looking around her room) embarrassment and the mess made for nothing. That smug grin on his face didn't do anything to improve her mood.

"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here'? Do I need a reason to call on an old friend?" Jareth eyed her trembling form with his head cocked to one side with a curious glance, never leaving his cool, calm, and collected pose leaning against the door jamb. Sarah searched for some way to light the room, but remembered that her only lamp lay in pieces on the floor behind the Goblin King. Besides, she didn't need a lamp to know the look that was on his face, his trademark mask of indifference and mild condescending amusement. It infuriated Sarah right down to her bones, and the flood of emotions she'd worked so hard to forget after leaving the Labyrinth came rushing back, making her tremble all the more. She tried to think of a snappy comeback, but her brain was shot wide open with adrenaline and fear, and she could only enunciate properly what she was really feeling, accenting each word with a sharp flick of her hands.

"One, we are not old friends, two, I don't recall asking you to visit, and three, I'm sure if I had, I would have insisted on a more appropriate time and place!" Indeed, Sarah was only dressed in a large t-shirt and panties, and it was edging on three o' clock in the morning. She tried hard to hide the shakiness in her voice and appear as strong as she had when they had first met. But Sarah had seen too much of the dark side of what life can be, and right now, she wasn't interested in appearing strong. She wanted to find out what _he _wanted so that she could get back to her life that teetered between not enough and too much. Not so long ago she would have said that her life as it was right now was not fair, she thought bitterly, but then again, she knew now to be thankful that it was functional. She knew better than to hope for more. And "more", she thought with a twinge of sadness, was standing right in front of her.

Jareth only chuckled at her false courage.

"Sarah, Sarah, when will you learn that I'm the king, and I can do whatever I want?" His eyes narrowed onto Sarah's daring her to object. He pushed himself off the door frame and sauntered over to her, stroked her cheek with his finger, "And if you really weren't afraid of me, you'd have had the courage to throw me out by now." He noted the twinge of some emotion flash across her eyes, but it was gone in a moment, replaced by that unique brand of stubbornness that belonged only to her. Fear? Guilt? Something on the edge of powerless, but she would never admit that. "And let me guess Sarah, none of this is fair, is it?" She said nothing at that but he noticed her face contort with rage, as she veered around and headed towards her bookshelf to grab another projectile. He added hastily, "Besides, I'm merely here as a messenger." That got her attention, and she stopped with a book in her hand in midair, and turned to him with an incredulous look on her face.

"Messenger?" she said sarcastically, "I can't even begin to imagine how cold hell must be for you, the Great Goblin King, to have been reduced to a _messenger_! What message do you bring? You want me to beat you at your own game again?" She saw the look of amusement slide from his face, replaced by annoyance and a small amount of anger. But Sarah decided that, after breaking into her apartment, scaring the ever-living shit out of her, and doing it all in his usual irritatingly sarcastic manner to boot, he could just listen to her rant. She continued with her monologue, watching as each comment brought a new, deeper shade of anger into his expression. "Rocks giving you trouble? The Bog of Eternal Stench needs mucking out?" And here Sarah grew bold, and she strutted up to where Jareth was until her face was inches from his, "Or maybe you've come to tell me that you love me again?"

Perhaps it was the left-over adrenaline rush from being confronted late at night in her own home, or perhaps seeing the Goblin King again after all those years had made long-forgotten angers and fears surface again. Whatever the reason for it, Sarah knew that she had gone too far, and had poured salt in a rather nasty wound of Jareth's. His face grew dark with rage.

"ENOUGH!" Jareth bellowed, and Sarah shrank back from the sheer volume. Jareth looked at her with a glance that could very easily have frozen ice, and his words darted from his mouth like tiny daggers.

"What I once offered you was great and sincere, and I will not have you diminishing its worth with your childish tantrum!" He inched closer to her, his eyes narrowing with each word, and she moved back a little. He continued, "I offered you everything I had and asked for so little in return-"

"Little?" Sarah interjected, "You asked me to love you!"

Jareth was taken aback by this, and he stopped his advance as though the words had slapped him in the face, though he continued to stare at Sarah with such intensity that she was afraid to meet his eyes. Jareth looked away, to her relief, and began to walk towards her window, a defeated slump to his stride. He looked out into the street below, a pained, wistful look on his face. He leaned on the wall, and stared into nothing.

"Yes," he whispered, "Yes, I suppose I did."

Sarah trembled in the cold of her dark apartment, unsure of what to do. She knew she could not go back to sleep and hope that by the morning light he wouldn't be there. He would. Her time in the Labyrinth had taught her that he was nothing if not persistent. He was there for a reason, and Sarah knew if she didn't find out why, she would have no peace from him until she did. She slowly made her way to where Jareth was standing, until she was standing beside him, looking into his face. She touched him lightly on the shoulder, and he turned his head until his gaze met hers. His mismatched eyes were burning with sorrow.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and he could tell she meant it. He smiled a genuine, honest-to-god, sans smugness smile that Sarah hadn't known he could, and it made her smile too.

"I'm sorry, too," he said, and he turned to face her from his perch at the window. "It seems that the years apart have not weakened our unsettled differences." Sarah felt the anguish in his words penetrated her very being. Her mind wandered back to a day not so long ago when he had offered her her dreams, everything, in exchange for…Sarah allowed herself to wonder what choice she would have made if she had known then what she knew now. Her life would have turned out very differently, indeed.

"No, I guess not." Sarah agreed. An awkward silence settled between the two. Sarah could not think of anything to say, and Jareth just stared at her with an expression Sarah could not decipher. She glanced at the clock, and decided it was time to find out what he wanted. Maybe it would be something small, something she could do quickly and get back to bed in time for a decent amount of sleep before work...and then tomorrow she would jump in her red sports car, drive to Oz and have tea with a flying monkey.

"You said you had a message," Sarah prompted. The King jerked his head, all serious and business-driven once again, suddenly remembering why he had come in the first place.

"Do you remember the goblin that offered you help in my labyrinth? Albeit prohibited help," here the king eyed Sarah with mild annoyance.

"Hoggle," Sarah said, and Jareth nodded solemnly. "What's wrong? Why are you here because of him? Is he okay?" Worry began to flood her voice.

"I'm afraid not, my dear. He is sick, and he asks that you return to the labyrinth to be with him in his final days."


End file.
